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Chapter Text

New Year

“Praise the halfling! Praise him with great praise!”

 Year after year, when the twenty-fifth comes to pass, Bilbo Baggins, Ringbearer, will be remembered in story and song.

Here in the North, Elessar has descended from his throne in new-built Annúminas to walk amongst the villagers on this day, Strider the Ranger again. His people give the most glory to Bilbo Baggins, Ring-finder, Luck-wearer, Barrel-rider, Elf-friend and twice Ringbearer, as is right. But Aragorn wanders the Angle; surrounded by cloaked figures in grey-green, he remembers a springtime years ago where he, young Trotter danced with the small folk and was glad.

New Moon

“Adar? Am I disturbing you?”

Aragorn smiled warmly on his firstborn, beckoning him into the lodge. He was glad to go a-Rangering, but a hearth was welcome, especially on this night.

“Not at all, my Faran.”

“Auntie Darwisa was just telling the tale of Lord and Lady Moon, and – “

Ah. Aragorn nodded and joined Faran, still called Faramir in the South. “Come then, tyenya, and be calmed. Arien’s wolf shall not touch you tonight.” He stretched out by the central hearth fire, leaning against a pole, and Faran joined him, the firelight bright in the dark of the moon.

New Day

The new moon night passes – the first since they have been North since the War was ended. Faran clings to his father, glad of the King’s arms around him.

Only weeks ago, he would have scorned such thoughts, wishing to prove himself a man. After the terrors of war, the shortness of his seventeen years is driven home. By Dúnedain measure he is still a child, and for now he is thankful.

A child, after all, cannot be imprisoned or beaten for desertion – even if running South may have won the War in the first place. A new day dawns.

New Leaf

3001 T.A., Ithilien

“We will call it Ithilien-in-Edhil.” Legolas smiles at Faran, Faramir, his friend’s firstborn and heir. “What do you think, nethben?”                                                                                                               
Faran looks the dying land over, then looks at his companions. Prince Legolas, his father’s beloved friend, stands there; beside him, Boromir, Faran’s half-brother, and Eirien, Boromir’s betrothed. Two princes, elven and human, forging ahead to make Ithilien a new land. Ithilien will belong to Boromir’s descendants, and Legolas’, forever. “It will be beautiful, one day, I think.”

Eirien, Aragorn’s young cousin, smiles at Faran. “The Moon Land has been long abandoned, but it will turn over a new leaf.”

New Clothes

2951 T. A., Imladris

Estel – no, Aragorn – stared as those who had been his brothers helped him to pack his gear. No more was he to walk arrayed in the rich fabrics the Imladrin elves wore. Of course, even they chose hunting leathers as proof against the elements and arrows of yrch – the coarse cloth and leather armour he had grown used to over the past five years. Still…

Aragorn picked up the tunic of soft doeskin. The fringes slid through his fingers; he frowned, uncertain, setting it down again. Matching leggings, kilt, and soft shoes... could he get used to these new clothes?

New Life

2988, Arnor, Two Rivers (Tâduin)

Years have passed, and Aragorn no longer wonders at the feel of the soft leather garments. Indeed, he wears them with pride today, surrounded by the women of his family, waiting. Will they come?

Gilraen and Ivorwen flank him, the latter leaning on her staff.

Dirhael is gone, and his sons are out a-Rangering, having left their wives and children safe in the village. Aragorn would have gone with them, if he hadn’t been needed here. Hoofbeats draw nearer.

Little Faramir rides forward, protected by Targon and Orodben.

“Faran!” Aragorn embraces his child at last. Their new life has begun.

Chapter Text

Tolkien Weekly – Vocalising

Speak

Title: Tongues of Birds and Angels

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters: Elwing, seabirds

Summary: Elwing remains desperate for news of her children.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Mention of suicidal thoughts and death.

Book/Source: Silmarillion

A/N: Follows on from my “Atop Aewellond’s Tower”. Thanks to Dreamflower, for her “Perhaps she’d have better luck with an albatross!” comment. :D

Mine? Mine!

Elwing stood atop Aewellond’s tower, shivering at the calls and suppressing tears. Was she ever to learn news of her sons? She had begun to comprehend the gulls’ cries, but they spoke of little – blood, fish and glorious death.

Elwing had longed for death. Better to die than to fail. She had failed her sons, her people, in her madness.

“What grace is this, Lady? What of your promise?” she cried into the gulls’ wailing. “They tell me naught!”

An albatross landed on the rail, calling, Have faith, Child!

Elwing gasped, falling to her knees. “You do speak!”

Whisper

Title: Learning to Listen

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters: Elwing, albatross

Summary: The albatross begins teaching her pupil.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Book/Source: Silmarillion

A/N: Elwing gasped, falling to her knees. “You do speak!”

I do, replied the albatross comfortingly. You will, as well, best beloved. Just give it time.

But—Elwing began, then started, eyes round. Like this? Elwing was sure that if the albatross could smile, she would be.

Just so, Child, the albatross returned, fluffing her feathers and settling them. Fear not! Your cries have not gone unheeded, but you must quiet your heart. Listen to the whispering of the winds and the voices inside; then you will hear. That which speaks loudest is often the wrong voice to follow.

Elwing closed her eyes and tried to shut out the screams.

Cry

Title: Lessons Learned

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters: Elwing, seabirds

Summary: Elwing begins to bridge the gap at last.
Rating: PG
Warning:
Book/Source: The Silmarillion
A/N: I disclaim the albatross’ line, which I expect many of my generation will recognise from a very non-Tolkien source…

Elwing practiced dutifully now, daily, doing her best to shut out the cry of the gulls over the crashing waves. Her albatross patiently tutored her, coming daily to teach her to broaden her mind. Listen with your heart, and you will understand, the albatross coaxed. Elwing quieted her mind, broadened her senses, and let her spirit commune with that of the great bird before questing toward those of the crying gulls.

Mine! Mine! Mine!

Yes, but what is yours? Elwing returned, surprising even herself. A gull wheeled to face her with a squawk.

You speak, Lady!

I do, Elwing enthused.

Call 

Elwing and the Albatross

B2MeM Prompt and Category: Then Aragorn took the crown and held it up and said:

Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn’ Ambar-metta!

And those were the words that Elendil spoke when he came up out of the Sea on the wings of the wind: ‘Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.’ (The Return of the King, “The Steward and the King”) 6. https://unsplash.com/photos/VUfUY0JYweA (Man playing pan pipes)

Format: Double drabble
Genre: Family
Rating: PG
Warnings: n/a
Characters: Elwing, Eärendil, Nielíqui, and a surprise?
Pairings: Eärendil/Elwing
Creator’s Notes (optional): Also for tolkien-weekly’s Vocalisation prompt, “Call”, though I’ll have to slim it down. Continuing the theme of randomized characters…
Summary: Elwing discovers the identity of the Albatross, her teacher.

Elwing converses with her seabirds every day now – they come at her call. She tells them the tale of the day her Eärendil was crowned with the Silmaril – she tells the Albatross, who listens intently, more so than the gulls, and in return the Albatross tells her stories of the Eldest Days, of the Sons and Daughters of the Powers.

Besides the Chief Maiar, there were others considered of greater power, close kin to the Belain. Nielíqui was one such. One who aided Lady Vána’s train, as near as a blood-child to the Valië who could never have one, and her lord. One day, Nielíqui strayed from the Isle of Almaren, playing her pipes and dancing. I looked long and long for her, but my task was…interrupted, she admits. I never found her.

“Who are you?” Elwing breathes. For answer, the Albatross’ shape shifts to that of an Elven woman, tall and fair, garbed in the blue of Elu Thingol’s House. A crown graces her dark hair. Elwing falls to her knees, understanding suddenly.

“Daernaneth Melian!” For who else, but she herself, might have such power, and use it so naturally?

Melian raises Elwing to her feet, kissing her brow.

Mutter

Title: Love Hurts

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters: Elwing, Melian, seabirds

Summary: Elwing comes to terms with the revelation.
Rating: PG
Warning:
Book/Source: The Silmarillion
A/N: Melian and Elwing have more in common than some might think…

The seagulls chatter amongst themselves, diving for fish to please the onetime Queen and Princess of Doriath.

Elwing pays them no heed, pacing the circumference of the tower, muttering to herself. Every so often she turns back to face Melian.

“What is it, best beloved?” Melian asks finally, when it is clear Elwing does not mean to unburden herself unprompted.

“Daernaneth…why? How could you?” Elwing asks, tears in her eyes. Melian sighs. “Do you not know, my dear heart?”

Elwing drops her gaze guiltily. “I suppose it is a family trait.”

“We both know how much love hurts,” Melian sighs.

Shout

Title: Reunions

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters: Elwing, Melian, Eärendil, Great Eagles

Summary: Elwing watches and waits with Eärendil – and feels the triumph of their sons, and their remaining son’s friends.
Rating: PG
Warning:
Book/Source: The Silmarillion
A/N: Drabble and a half (150 words)

Elwing comes to view her daernaneth as a trusted friend and confidante, even though Melian no longer confines herself to albatross shape when visiting.

Still, they do fly out together every so often. One Age of the world ends and another rises, with the last of Elros’ faithful sons fleeing before the storm. Eärendil watches over their children as he Sails the skies. One thing he tells her, after witnessing Elendil’s fall –

“Sauron is not defeated,” Elwing echoes. The Mariner shakes his head.

They can do naught from Aewellond; the Third Age of the world passes by as they keep their remote vigil.  

One day, the Great Eagles sweep over Aewellond, crying out in joy. “Praise the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!”

Elwing joins Eärendil in a shout of triumph – and when the Ringbearers come at last, in her remaining son’s company, she embraces them with tears of gratitude.

Chapter Text

Message – Not My Ammë 

Indis Noldotári. The title still feels strange. She thinks of long ago, when she was Ndissë, daughter of Imin, dwelling on the shores of Cuiviénen. Even then she had looked at Tata’s son with longing, though when he placed his hand in Míriel’s she had not spoken out. But perhaps Iminyë, her mother, had some foresight, for at long last she is the bride she was named to be.

She is seated in the Queen’s chambers, long unused, and everywhere there are signs of Míriel. The room is still and silent – she scarcely dares to breathe in it. But at last she hears a noise – a soft tread outside the door, and a rustle as something is pressed under it. Her new attendant, Ercassë, glances quickly at the door, and fetches the something to Indis at her soft command.

It is a note. Indis takes it, unfolding it slowly, and sees Fëanáro’s handwriting. The Crown Prince’s message is brief, scathing, and painful.

You are not my ammë.

Indis closes her eyes briefly, willing away the pain. She hears Fëanáro’s soft breathing outside her sitting room. “Nay, hinya, I am not Míriel,” she agrees aloud. “But I pray you will not hate me for your atar’s choice.”

“It is your fault, Vanya witch,” Fëanáro says aloud. There is a scurrying of steps – a door slams somewhere nearby. Indis’ head drops on her breast; she draws in a slow breath and steels herself, sitting up straight in her chair.

So be it.

Troll – Siblings and Shibboleths

As time went by, Indis did her best to be the wife Finwë wanted, the queen the Noldor desired. She wished to care for Fëanáro, though she knew better than to mother him, but he gave her scornful looks whenever she passed.  “Vanya witch” was the least of what he called her now, when he acknowledged her at all.

Frustrated, Finwë sent his heir to study under Master Rúmil. Fëanáro turned out to be an apt pupil; Rúmil had never had such a quick study and was pleased with the elfling. With his heir’s attention occupied elsewhere, the Noldòran set his mind to the reason he had petitioned the Valar, and Indis did not disappoint.

Their first child was a girl, who they named Findis. Soon after Findis’ Naming Day, the Noldotári was confronted by Fëanáro in a towering rage.  “You!” he seethed. “It is due to you my amillë is so disrespected!”

“Enough, Fëanáro Finwion,” Indis replied calmly – adolescent histrionics from the Crown Prince had become normal, though irritating.

“I am Fëanáro Þerindion,” he hissed. “And the Noldor will pronounce my amillë’s name correctly. Serindë,” he spat, “is an abomination, and I know it is your doing, daughter of trolls, ensnarer of hearts! You have not fooled me, and as for her… “

He pointed a finger at Findis. “Listen to me carefully, hina,” he growled at the baby. “You will never take my place. Ever.” His tone set Findis to wailing.

With a snarled oath, Fëanáro stalked away.

Flame – Tongues of Flame

“My queen?”

Indis stirred slightly, sitting up in bed. Ercassë had brought her Findis to nurse; the Noldotári began seeing to her daughter’s needs. This is what motherhood should be. She reflected anxiously on her husband’s firstborn as she so often did. Spirit of fire his mother had called him, and so he was.

“Thank you, Ercassë. What news from belowstairs?” she asked softly, as Findis suckled.

“Naught of import from belowstairs, my queen. But they still speak of his Highness as such…” Ercassë faltered.

“Go on, child,” Indis encouraged. “I would know more, so I can mend the rift ere it spreads far.”

“I fear it is too late,” Ercassë said mournfully. “His Highness has heard the servants’ gossip, spreading like a raging fire. Unnatural, they say. Abandoned, motherless child – unwanted and unloved.”

Indis’ eyes burned with unshed tears. “I have tried to love him, Ercassë, truly.”

“I know,” Ercassë whispered. “But Fëanáro, I deem, will never see that.” Her breath caught. “My queen,” she added hastily, with an embarrassed bob of her head.

Indis gestured dismissively. “Let it be. We are alone,” she murmured. She finished tending to Findis, rocking her child to sleep once more. “I would fain have one companion who will speak freely before me.”

Ercassë gave the Queen a shy smile and receiving the baby princess once more.

“One last thing, Ercassë.”

“My queen,” Ercassë said automatically. Indis sighed.

“I want their names. It may be too late – but perhaps there is still hope.”

Cloud – Trouble Brewing

Findis Finwiel sighed. It would be twelve years before she was permitted to marry the ellon she so deeply loved, Lord Valandur Voronwion. She longed for more – to be a wife and mother, and she longed for escape from Tirion – from Fëanáro.

She rocked Ñolofinwë and Finwaina in their cradle, marveling. Twin children!

Not entirely unheard of – did her uncle Ingwë not have twin sons? But it merely made Fëanáro angrier, more inclined to ignore their family. He had elected to open his own school of Lambengolmor for pure Quenya, working on tengwar to rival Master Pengolodh’s. Well, let him.

***

Indis’ eyes flew up to meet those of her second daughter. “Lalwen, what ails you, child?” she asked. “What ails your brother and sister?”

“Fëanáro,” Lalwen replied softly, hoisting a whimpering Arafinwë in her arms as Faniel clung to her legs, crying.

“What has Fëanáro done?” Ice flooded Indis’ veins. Oh, how she wished Findis had not gone to Vanyamar!

“Aracáno, the little ones, and I stopped to see if Fëanáro wanted any sweets from the market. There was a fight.”

 “Where?” Indis whispered. “Where are my sons?”

Lalwen noticed Indis’ slip; she refrained from commenting. “The healers’, with Mahtan.”

Application – The Smith and the Princes

Mahtan fumed at the stuffy apprentice to the Master Healer who guarded his precious Halls as though they were too fair to be sullied by his presence.

"Master Mahtan, I must ask you to leave. This is a place of cleanliness and healing, you and your kind--" He applied a supercilious stare.

"I will enter and see them, whether you like it or not!" Mahtan’s temper flared red as his unusual locks, and Minalcar backed away.

"You and your kind are not welcome," Healer Minalcar continued, despite his unease at the master smith's outburst. "The rules clearly state--"

***

"Damn the rules!"

Prince Fëanáro sat up suddenly, hearing shouting outside the window of his room. He recognised the furious tones of Master Mahtan. "Do you not know who I have brought to you?" the smith demanded.

"I recognise Prince Ñolofinwë," was the stuffy healer’s reply, and Fëanáro scowled. Minalcar! One of Indis’ half-Vanya abominations; he could not stand the apprentice. "But the other..."

Yes, the other. Him. He was ‘the other’ to that fool.

"My apprentice," Mahtan snapped. "Lead me to them. I will wash, but your master should have taught you to present hot towels to visitors, elfling."

***

In the room next to Fëanáro, Ñolofinwë lay still by the window. "Yes, sir. This way, please," he heard Minalcar say, and he considered Mahtan’s words. Fëanáro, the master smith’s apprentice? His half-brother was a scholar, through and through; he could not see Fëanáro standing over an anvil, beating out horseshoes! Why had Mahtan lied?

Well, Fëanáro had been at the smithy often. But that had naught to do with Mahtan, ‘twas all to do with his only daughter and heir, Nerdanel. Rosy-cheeked with nut-brown hair and shining eyes, she was beautiful and strong. She would make a fine princess.

Password - Tears Unnumbered

It was a long trek to Formenos – sometimes called Formandos, North Prison.

“Finwë?” Indis breathed, as though it were the password for the abandoned gate. She passed through in the darkness, only the cold light of the stars above to shine on the scene. Not even her lantern shone here.

How much blood had stained the broken tiles? Indis turned in a slow circle, stopping before the cairn of cold and unfeeling stones. Who had placed them? Fëanáro? Had he allowed his sons to join in?

“Farewell, husband,” she whispered, tears staining her cheeks. “Forgive me for failing our children.”

Chapter Text

Stir

Title: On the Eve of Departure

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters/Pairing: Sam, Elanor

Rating: G

Summary: Sam and his eldest daughter share a special moment in the kitchen of Bag End.

Warnings:

Book/Source: LOTR Appendices, if I remember right

Disclaimer: Not mine

“Sam-dad?”

“Yes, Elanorellë?” Sam cast a concerned glance at his eldest as they worked in the kitchen of Bag End together. “You thinking as you’d like to stay to home after all?”

“No, Sam-dad!” Elanor cried, nearly spilling the batter she’d been stirring. “We’re goin’ tomorrow! I couldn’t stay after Uncle Strid— the King, and the Queen invited us special-like.”

“Of course not, sweetling,” Sam replied. “No more’d I ask you to. What is it?”

“You think Uncle Frodo would approve o’ me serving?” she asked, carefully pouring the batter into the waiting cake tin.

Sam nodded firmly. “I do.”

Beat

Title: The Road Goes Ever On

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters/Pairing: Sam Gamgee, Elanor Gamgee, Young Tom Cotton, Marigold Gamgee, OCs

Rating: G

Summary: The road to Gondor is a long one, and there will be stops along the way…

Warnings: I have no eye for distance. I’ve just finished overhauling my room after six weeks of work (well, one day a week for six weeks, to sort through 16/17 years’ worth of stuff) and so my Atlas of Middle-earth finally has a proper place, which, alas, was not next to me when I wrote this drabble. :P Heh.

Book/Source: LotR Appendices

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from Tolkien, or from LOTRO, is not mine.

Parting from her siblings had been difficult, but Aunt Mari and Uncle Tom would be looking after them, Elanor thought. There were so many things to do, and see, well past the Brandywine Bridge!

They stayed at the inn of a portly hobbit named Adso Haybank, who served a proper fourteen-twenty, before moving on to Bree. Old Mr. Butterbur’s grandson Whitman stirred Sam-dad up, and they were on the Road once more – south and east, past the Emyn Sûl, travelling seemingly forever till they reached a stronghold of Men not far from the Last Bridge.

“Well, I’m beat,” Sam murmured.

Add

Title: A Stop in Ost Rhúnen

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters/Pairing: Elanor, Radagast

Rating: PG

Summary: Before the Last Bridge is crossed, Elanor has a surprise encounter.

Warnings:

Book/Source: LOTR Appendices

Ost Rhúnen, which had been known as Ost Guruth in the time of the Stewards, was no longer a crumbling ruin but a thriving town. The travelers were welcomed at the entrance by Hana, the headman’s daughter, who led them back to her small, tidy inn.

The Brown Wizard was a fine establishment, added onto the old Lore-tower. The tower room still belonged to Radagast. Eventually Elanor encountered the ithron himself, tending a baby rabbit as he entered the kitchen.

“Miss Gardner, a pleasure.” Radagast bowed to the tweenaged lass.

Flustered, Elanor hastily remembered to curtsey. “An honour, my lord.”

Measure

Title: The Way through the Woods

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters/Pairing: Sam, Rosie, Elanor

Rating: G

Summary: The Hobbits continue on their way to Gondor, though first they mean to stop in Imladris.

Warnings:

Book/Source: LOTR appendices

Disclaimer: Not mine.

After leaving Radagast, the party entered the Trollshaws, following the Road through the woods, and only stopped once. Three silent figures, too large to measure - both Rose and Elanor were frightened. Sam laughed.

“Them’s Mr. Bilbo’s old stone-trolls, my dears, that Gandalf tricked,” he chuckled. “They’re not goin’ to hurt no one no more. There’s the cave where Mr. Bilbo found Sting.” He smiled, remembering.

“The cave with the Elven swords, Sam-dad?”

“That’s the one.” Sam walked along lost in thought, Rose and Elanor behind him.

“Daro!”

Sam halted suddenly at the command; two Elves dropped from the trees.

Sift

Title: Welcome to Imladris

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters/Pairing: Sam, Rosie, Elanor, Elladan, Elrohir

Rating: G

Summary: The Hobbits make the acquaintance of the Peredhil.

Warnings: nope

Book/Source: LOTR Appendices

Disclaimer: Not mine.

“Why, if it isn’t Mr. Elladan and Mr. Elrohir!” Sam cried. “Begging your pardon, we wasn’t expectin’ you to be waitin’ in the trees an’ all – though I can’t say as why not. Listen to me yammer on – where’re my manners?”

“It is we who entreat your forgiveness, Lord Samwise,” said Elrohir. “Be thrice welcome to Imladris – and to you, Lady Rose, Lady Elanor. I am Elrohir Elrondion, and here is Elladan. Where can we show you first?”

Elladan smiled knowingly. “Shall we start with the kitchen?”

Rose and Elanor traded smiles. They had missed the feel of sifted flour!

Time

Title: The Last Homely Kitchen

Author: Kaylee Arafinwiel

Characters/Pairing: Elladan, Elrohir, Sam, Rose, Elanor

Rating:

Summary: Time to move on.

Warnings:

Book/Source: LOTR Appendices

Disclaimer: not mine

The Hobbits spent a fortnight in Imladris, taking over the kitchen – which was very hobbit-accessible.

“Thought it’d be bigger,” Rose mused.

 “Ma, don’t you remember as Mr. Bilbo lived here?”

Elrohir nodded. “Indeed, Lady Elanor. Hobbit cooking is welcome. Arwen will surely have you cook with her.”

“Don’t you be thinkin’ too much on it, Elanorellë,” Sam cautioned. “You’re the Queen’s lady. Your Ma might, though.”

 “Arwen may honour Lady Elanor by teaching her the Making of the Bread,” Elladan ventured.

“Bread-makin’s not too much for my Elanor,” Rose said firmly. Elanor blushed pink.

Time passed, though – and Gondor beckoned.